[Ech'Estar]

Prologue
EXILE

“The punishment has been chosen: Ech’Estar of the Golden Leaf, you are henceforth banished from the realm and woods of Llirvenya. You may take your belongings and leave. You will be guarded until you reach the forest edge. Then you may go to whatever fate may come upon you.”

The words of the final verdict still haunted the Elven warrior Ech’Estar’s ears as he passed quietly beneath the large, flowing canopy of the Llirvenyan woods. Why hadn’t the council listened? Ech’Estar was no murderer! When he had found Tel’Vinyon lying dead in front of the council chamber, he had been too shocked by the sudden occurrence of events to yell out. He could only stand helplessly as the rest of the Elven Council had arrived on the scene, and, seeing him, standing in front of the body, had accused him of the crime.

Now Ech’Estar had been banished from his homeland, most likely the worst of punishments that an Llirvenyan Elf could face, disregarding death. Since childhood, wood Elves were taught to worship and protect the forests that they lived in. Being banished from their cool shade meant that the guilty one was no longer under the holy protection of the wood spirits.

Strangely though, Ech’Estar didn’t feel as angry as he would have come to expect from being wrongly accused of the crime. Frustrated and confused, of course, but the wrongly convicted Elf watered that down with the grim promise to bring justice to the real murderer, whoever it may be. He knew that he had not committed the murder, now he only had to prove it. Of course, considering he was currently being escorted to the mountainous edge of the Llirvenyan forest by three well-armed Elven warriors, while he was wrapped and bound, the hopes of further arguing his innocence to any real effect was unlikely at the most.

Ech’Estar had tried speaking with one of his somber sentries, but all he had gotten was a venomous, piercing glare. No more than he had expected; a murderer wasn’t to expect to be treated kindly in Llirvenyan society, or any society for that matter. After a while longer of trudging through the dark forest, the captive and his guards began to set up camp for the night. Quietly the guards began to stoke a hot fire on which to cook their evening meal, while Ech’Estar sat on a stump, his hands bound to his back by a thick, twisted vine. The elf was actually rather frustrated that his long, slender hands had not be bound with the usual magic bond that was usually used, for the tough vine rubbed his wrists raw.

Watching as his guards silently lay down to rest, and forgetting about any hopes of imploring to the guards for some food, Ech’Estar slid into a restless sleep.

[Ech'Estar]

Later in the night when the white moon had risen high in the sky, there was a loud primeval shriek that echoed through the forest. Beautifully colored birds squawked in protest, as they shot into the air, frightened away by the horrible cry.

With a start, Ech’Estar woke, his hands reaching for his waist where he normally kept his twin scimitars. The coarse vines that held his wrists sliced deep into his flesh and the elf grunted in pain. Ech’Estar’s jaw dropped when he saw his two guards still lying on the ground asleep. Trying as best as he could to move without letting his bonds cause him more agony. The captive Elf inched towards the two guards, and nudged one sharply in the side.

“Ttriss’n ni’ll! Get up! We must hurry and move!” He cried to the startled guardsman he had woken. Seeing the confusion on the tired Elf’s face, he hissed, now more conscious of his volume, “Tell iev’e lliray Oonruic!”

The Elf’s eyes widened and he quickly shook awake his companion. News of the danger that advanced clouded the two Guard’s realization that if Ech’Estar had been a cold blooded killer like he had been accused, he could have merely cut his bonds and slit the two’s throat’s as they slept in blissful slumber. Quickly, the two Elves packed up the campsite and extinguished the pathetic remnants of flames left behind in the fire pit. Slinging their heavy skin packs onto their backs, they began off on the trail, their prisoner trailing between the two. Both armed Elves were anxiously glancing around at the neighboring foliage, as if expecting an attack any moment. Ech’Estar, was an expert in all manners of the dark creatures that occupied both the Llirvenyan Forest and the notorious Black Spine; the mountain range that spread from the north of the twisted realm of Vlard’Ven to Lake Telrihl and the town of Cleavestone. The savage exclamation had been the sound of an Orc, a primitive species that lurked at the cave-ridden base of the Black Spine. They mostly traveled in packs, led by the most intelligent Alpha male. They used large metal sheets as if they were swords, which were unwieldy to use, yet could quickly and gruesomely bring a rather untimely demise to an enemy of the pack. Though they were not dangerous by themselves to a skilled ranger like Ech’Estar, where there was one, more certainly followed.

Though Ech’Estar could not understand the broken language of the Orcs, he assumed that the cry that he had heard had been a scout alerting the rest of his pack of potential danger. In the vast expanse of the Llirvenyan forest, it was hard to pinpoint sound, so Ech’Estar could only hope that the Orcs hadn’t already found their trail.

Though the Elven ranger was not afraid of dying-death was an enemy all Llirvenyan warriors were taught to conquer in the blossom of their training–the thought of ending his life, as some Orc pup’s dinner was far less than satisfying. He only hoped that his guards were competent enough to be able to either evade or fight off the pack of Orcs.

The three elves’ pace quickened when they heard the grunting calls of more Orcs. Branches and long, winding vines slapped at their bodies as they moved. The hooting cry of the Orc pack behind them was enough to keep them going, and it wasn’t for hours that the noise of the Elves’ pursuers subsided. Finally Ech’Estar and his two Elven escorts fell to the ground in exhaustion, keeping a wary eye on their captive. They weren’t planning on letting him awake and unwatched while they slept like had befallen the night before.

[Ech'Estar]

The first of the Elven escorts was pulling out his rations from his sack, when a large, wicked black arrow suddenly slammed unexpectedly into the elf’s rations bag. The elf leapt backwards in shock as he stared at the arrow that would have pierced his heart had he not raised his thick and durable sack in front of his thinly protected chest.

“Ni Oonruic!” the elf’s companion cried in alarm, “The Orcs!” and in a blur of polished silver, he had his long, slender scimitar in hand. His compatriot copied the move and both ducked behind opposite trees. Ech’Estar ducked down and rolled down into a small ravine, away from any other Orc archer’s line of sight. His handcuffs bit into his wrists once more, but with a softy moan of pain, the bound elf managed to sit himself up against a large, mossy rock.

There came a soft rusting from the bushes where the arrow had entered the camp from, and cautiously a large, mangy haired Orc entered the camp, a quizzical look plastered upon his ugly face as he searched for the target he was sure had been in the camp.

The Orc was ugly by any species definition of the word. With gaunt, gray skin, and long black hair, he seemed as if he had lived in the clammy darkness of the underground all of his life. His dirty, corded hair had been braided with small animal bones, and upon the Orc’s head was a headdress made of a large animal skull.

The beast searched around for anything out of the ordinary from where he had emerged from the bushes, then cautiously climbed out onto the soft green grass of the clearing. Before he could take more than four strides forward, one of the Elven Guards swung out from the tree and brought his scimitar up in a display of swordsmanship that would have dazzled even the most capable Orcish warrior. In seconds, the Orcs head lay in a bloody pool next to its limp body. The foul creature hadn’t even had time to scream.

Ech’Estar watched on, feeling somewhat unimpressed by the elven warriors' skill, as a trio of the late Orc archer’s companions entered the clearing. One by one, the fell to the reddening ground. Though the Elves’ ability with a sword would impress almost any non-elf, Ech’Estar had seen the display thousands of times. It was straight from warrior training. Ech’Estar laughed silently and grimly to himself as he thought of if the two Guards truly knew the skill of their captive. Though Ech’Estar tried his best to be modest, he knew of his skill with his blades, a talent that had gotten him into the Llirvenyan waywatchers in the first place.

Ech’Estar’s thoughts were cut short as cries came from the clearing where his two escorts were defending against the Orcs. Now it was the two elves’ turns to call out in distress as they were beset upon by a quartet of the furious beasts. Before the elves could react to the sudden onslaught, one of the two’s slender faces contorted in surprise and pain as a rusted Orc blade burst through his chest. With a cry of rage, the wounded guard’s compatriot charged the four Orcs in a wild dance that left two of the Orcs lying on the ground, cut in hundreds of places. The remaining two took a step backwards, their turn to be surprised. Before the Elf guard could close with his enemy’s however, one found the courage to jerk a small, crooked throwing knife from an unattractive leather belt. It took only a quick flick of the wrist to bury the rusted point into the Elf’s stomach. The guard’s eyes widened in shock as he slowly dropped to his knees. With his dying breath, he managed to whisper out a sharp set of syllables that neither Ech’Estar nor the Orcs could hear. As his body fell to the ground and his life left him, a faint white aura shimmered from his body. The spell that the Elf had murmured had done its work. The white glow seemed to get soaked up by the ground. Suddenly all seemed all so beautiful. The two Orcs seemed a cruel tarnish to the magnificent and vibrant splendor that were their surroundings. With a cry of dread and despair, the two monsters dropped their blades and fled in horror. The now holy glade, which had been hallowed by the Elf’s soul, was too much for the evil Orcs to stand.

Then all was suddenly quiet.

[Ech'Estar]

Should I continue with this or is it that bad?

[KAMUT]

what do you mean bad? its great! the only thing I suggest for online reading is, you put a space between the paragraphs for online viewing, it makes it an easier read.

When copying from Word, the post losses format information, so you have to physically make the changes in the post.

[Ech'Estar]

Glad you like it!

I fixed the paragraphing, and yes, it was because of Microsoft Word that the formatting got messed up.

[Death Angel]

No, please don't stop! I like this one! Plaese, continue to write more and more! LOL I don't check this area very often but feel free to send me a PM when you have updated it so i know to look again. That is what Kamut does for me!